


Like Nuns

by delires



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delires/pseuds/delires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before Kurt leaves for college is strange mostly because it feels just like any other night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Nuns

The night before Kurt leaves for college is strange mostly because it feels just like any other night. They eat dinner with the Hummel-Hudson clan, watch a movie which is sure to be shit (but who can resist Jude Law?), then stay awake for hours tangled up in Kurt’s lush bedcovers.

“Listen.” Kurt presses his lips together as he prepares his words. “If you get really drunk while I’m gone ─which I know you will because you do every time you so much as see a beer─ and thus impaired, happen to kiss someone else─”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, because these thoughts need to be immediately dashed.

“─then for the love of Gaga, do not tell me.” Blaine drags himself up from his slump against the pillows and looks over in time to see Kurt’s hands fly up in alarm. “No. Wait. That will breed secrecy and resentment.”

“Kurt.”

“So, do tell me, but do it gently. And if you can maybe frame it in such a way that I come across as a sort of elegant martyr figure─”

“I’m not going to kiss anyone else,” Blaine interrupts. “You have nothing to worry about.”

The lamplight makes Kurt’s long eyelashes translucent. He blinks and then says, “You know as well as I do that there is always plenty to worry about. I can’t even borrow a bow-tie from you without you texting me throughout the day to check up that I’m keeping it safe.”

“That’s because of that one traumatic time with Wes─” Blaine blurts before he can swallow down the bad memories. Then he takes a breath and lays a hand on Kurt’s arm. “But you understand about silk, I know that. Just one of the reasons why I have no desire to so much as touch anyone else. Ever.”

“Good,” Kurt says perfectly sweetly, “Because joking aside, I would murder you as you slept.”

“It would be like a Tarantino movie,” Blaine says, with a grin.

“With better dancing.”

“And fewer jumpsuits.”

“On that note...” Kurt lifts the sheets covering his lap and peers underneath, “I’m ready again. Are you?”

Blaine has been so been busy staring at the light caught in Kurt’s eyelashes, trying to commit the sight to memory, that he’s forgotten why they are still awake. He puts his hand under the covers, almost guilty. “Already?” he says. “Wow. You’ll have to give me a second.”

“Blaine!” Kurt snaps his fingers. “Look alive. We have to go as many times as we can tonight. Who knows when we’ll next see each other? We’re going to be living like nuns from now on.”

The finger snaps mean business. Blaine’s hand stills. He looks at Kurt in amusement. “Who would have thought that of the two of us you’d turn out to be the sex pest.”

The corners of Kurt’s mouth twitch in the first signs of a pout. “I’m serious.”

“Well, then, I might need your help here.” Blaine leans closer. For a second the pout stays in place, but then Kurt sighs and reaches beneath the sheets, trying to control a smile.

“This is such a ploy,” he says. Blaine kisses him as he feels Kurt’s fingers wrap around him.

“You’ll miss my ploys.”

“Don’t.” Kurt shakes his head. He makes the next kiss deeper, tilting his chin. When they break apart again he says. “Just picture me in a tight yellow jumpsuit.”

“With a sword,” Blaine adds, breathless now.

“If that’s your thing, I won’t judge.”

Kurt’s fingers squeeze and Blaine’s hips lift from the mattress. With impeccable dancer’s coordination he uses that momentum to tumble them both over into a more appealing position.

*

Later, they lie in the darkness with their legs and arms all caught up in one another’s.

With his lips touching Blaine’s collarbone, Kurt says, “I’m scared of leaving.”

Blaine kisses an eyebrow, the nearest thing he can reach. “Stop it,” he whispers, “You’ll be fabulous.”

*

No child of a mechanic would embark on a long drive without first making the vital checks: coolant level, oil, tyre pressure. Together they stand in front of Kurt’s car, the hood still propped open. Staring down at the engine, Kurt says, “I thought about sabotaging it so I’d have to stay.”

Blaine slips his hand into his pocket and feels the folded sheet of paper safe inside. “Not too late for that.”

Kurt gives him a look which tells him to stop trying to be a funny man. “I am not touching an engine without coveralls, Blaine Anderson. Besides, there’s no damage I could do which Dad wouldn’t be able to fix sooner than you can say Ben Sherman.”

As he closes the hood, Kurt stares back up at the house. He has already said goodbye to his family inside without shedding a tear. It’s a different matter out here, with only Blaine to see.

“I’ll come over to watch games,” Blaine says, and when Kurt looks at him he adds, “I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

Then they are hugging and the feeling of abnormality finally comes crashing down on Blaine, so sudden that it makes him nauseous.

“I love you,” he says, and feels Kurt’s arms tighten around him.

“I love you too.”

He keeps the ticket hidden until Kurt has climbed into the car and turned the ignition. Only then does he unfold the paper and knock on the driver’s side window. When Kurt looks up, he presses the ticket to the glass.

Kurt rolls down the window. “What’s that?” His eyelashes are spiky wet with tears. Blaine rests his arm against the open window and leans through.

“It’s a plane ticket. I’m coming to visit you in two weeks.” He grins. “So you won’t be living like a nun for long.”


End file.
